You want to know what's so fucked up about this situation? This isn't the first time Auggie has been 'dead' the first time was some sick prank he concocted for shits and giggles -- and it was funny, broken nose and all, he got to watch his friend mourn for no reason, he was a sick bastard, what can I say? But this time... It wasn't some joke he made in his coke addled brain -- this time it was real, he went to his own funeral, it wasn't just a friend, it was his whole family, grief stricken, tear streaked. It made him sick to his stomach, but it was what the the stupid FBI agent said was the right thing to do, that he -- they weren't safe, that they had to go into witness protection and no one could know, not until the trial was over and Auggie had been to court before, he knew that trials could take easily up to months, years even, they already testified, the gunman saw their faces, there was no way they would be safe in that town anymore. He's just glad to be alive, really, it's not his time.

What the fuck.

 No seriously, what the fuck. 

Augustus partied, Augustus partied hard. With the cocaine and the alcohol and other drugs, he could feel like the tallest man on the planet and go hard for hours, club after club, basement after basement but this? This was new. All he could remember was from the day before yesterday, he remembered begging Kemi to go with him to Vegas with the promise of fish and chips and all the other British food stuff she liked and helping her pack delicates and making her rest her head on his shoulder on the plane but other than that it’s a completely and total black out. No memories, no nothing.  Well that’s a complete lie, Augustus knew something happened because fuck – his body was sore. He ached from head to toe, everything stiff and he knew the second he attempted to move his body the sounds of his bones and cartilage moving and shifting would fill the air and it would be as unpleasant to feel just as it would be to hear but fuck (he used that word too much he was beginning to notice but nothing else seemed to work) he really needed to pee.   

He needed to pee and get something to drink, but there was something on top of his preventing that, blinking sleeping from his eyes he looked down and it took everything in him not make any sudden movements that could wake the girl sleeping on top of him up. “Shit shit fucking shit shit shit…” Kemi, beautiful, charming, funny Kemi Grant and fuck – were they naked? And wearing rings? This… Not good not good at all. Augustus could see the headline already on the tabloids. ‘Famous model Kemi Grant murders socialite bad boy billionaire Augustus Thatcher Reeves in Las Vegas hotel room’ it would be the end of his life and the semi end of her career (she was pretty enough with a fierce walk he was sure she could bounce back but he didn’t aspire to become a zombie) and just – fuck. Auggie never saw marriage in the cards for him; he never actively sought out something more permanent for his love life and actually never really thought about it, he was twenty and in the prime of his life no time to think about that.